


Love and Flowers

by snowytetra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Language of Flowers, M/M, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2859341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowytetra/pseuds/snowytetra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew Williams is visiting his father in London. During his stay he catches the eye of diplomat Mathias who begins to send him flowers, and everything that those flowers mean with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a rare pair secret santa exchange with the help of my editors. (Thank you both for helping me!)
> 
> I had to do quite a bit of research about flower language, so hopefully everything is correct. If not feel free to let me know. Any comments and critiques are welcome.
> 
> Hope you like it!

~Summer~

May

I have just arrived in my father’s home in London. I fear the arrival of my brother as well made our welcoming less cheerful than my father intended. The weather seemed more inviting than he. My brother, Alfred, overtook what pleasantries my father had to offer. The carriage ride to his home further into London was filled with my brother’s incessant chatter, going on about what was occurring on the sidewalks we passed or about the things he had learned in France during our stay with Papa. Our fathers had a strained relationship than neither was keen to speak of, so I tried not to pry. We switched between their homes each year, and it was now time to spend a year in London. I would need to brush up on my English and hide my accent as much as possible. Father hated my accent, even though the young ladies he insisted on trying to pair me with loved the slight hints of French influence in my grammar.

Unpacking was fairly plain, Alfred preoccupying our father’s time, leaving the maids to unpack for him. I preferred to place my things myself, since everything had a place. My room had changed little, but had stayed well maintained. I could tell a freshening had been done, which was a nice thought on my father’s part. The evening was as dull as the morning, with dinner being filled with Alfred’s chatter and father’s nonchalant responses. I was glad to retire so I could write and then sleep. The train ride from the port was exhausting and I was sure our day would be busy tomorrow.

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June

After breakfast I was summoned to the door. My father was busy and so I answered in his absence. A tall man stood there, bright blue eyes smiling at me just as large as his mouth. He spoke with a heavy accent that I couldn’t place, but his English was developed enough to be understood. I was given a message for my father before being able to explain who I was, since the man did not recognize me. After a short conversation, he departed and I closed the door. I delivered the note to my father, stating it was from a Mathias Køhler. He thanked me, and spoke nothing else of it. I learned later that day that he is a Dane, here along with a Danish diplomat to speak with the English about fishing procedures, or something along those thoughts.  Explains the strange name.

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June

A maid came into my room, a small potted plant in her hands. It had been delivered to me moments ago from a messenger boy, with no name on the note. I thanked her and moved the pot to a sunny window. It was a beautiful plant, one I did not recognize. After a search in the study I located the book my father kept. After a good half hour, I found a drawing and description matching that of the flower sent to me. It was a gloxinia, a flower whose shade nearly matched my eyes, at least that is what my father said when he saw it. He teased me about having a secret admirer, to which I inquired further. It was then I learned the flower stands for love at first sight, to which I was taken aback. I had no clue who could have sent it, be it a joke or in good faith.

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July

Mathias came with the diplomat for dinner tonight, and I often caught him watching me from the corner of my eye. Could he be the one who sent me the gloxinia? I wanted to ask him, but there was no time during the evening to ask him alone. How could he know I swayed towards those the same as I? This question plagued me. It was perfectly okay to my Papa, but I was not as sure to how it would be received in England.  Who knows what would happen if my father were to hear of this.

 

~Fall~

September

Mathias and I had been slowly growing closer these past few months. During the summer my family visited the ocean, and he just so happened to be there as well. He ambushed me in my room on the final night and nearly forced a confession out of me. He can be very persuasive and I was unprepared for his charming ways. I still remember the events of that night clearly. He bid me good night, but before I had a chance to reply, captured my lips with his own. He was warm, which only made me melt more in the summer heat. Just as quickly as it happened he was gone, jogging off into the night for his temporary home. I stood with the door ajar for how long I know not. A breeze off the bay made me shiver and come to my senses. I did not sleep that night, and got very little for many nights after.

We met at a café today, and he gave me a small bouquet of flowers. We talked, and ever so slowly moved closer, closing the distance created by the table. We took a back way to get to my home, finding new ways to get across the city. Mathias pulled me into a back door way, and smiled his unforgettable smile, before lifting my chin to meet his lips. It was sweet, gentle, with just a hint of playfulness when he nipped my lip upon my release. I gasped and gave him as stern of a look as I could muster. He only laughed at me before starting back on our path home.

The maids complimented the flowers I had in my room. I rearranged the bouquet to be more flattering in a vase. One that spoke French quite well talked with me about the flowers, as well as what they stood for. Forget-me-not’s: True love, Camellia: Admiration, Carnations: Fascination, and Lily-of-the-Valley: You’ve made my life complete. An acorn charm was wrapped around the bouquet handle, of which I placed in a special spot.

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October

We have been spending as much time together as possible, but it never seems to be enough. Mathias is heading home before winter takes hold, so he has been busy setting up travel arrangements and packing. I offered to help, but he declined, opting to take one last walk together through the park close to his temporary home. I knew I was going to miss him, and knowing this would be the last time I saw him until next year saddened me. Mathias was quick to cheer me up, to bring a smile to my face. He said “I like to see you smiling. It suits you better.” I wasn’t sure how long my smile would last once he left.

I wasn’t able to bid him farewell as he left, so I brought a small gift with me to the park. Having caught on to his secret flower meanings, I was disappointed to learn the one I wanted was not carried that time of year, so I had to settle for another. My small potted primrose was well accepted, a smile gracing his face that wasn’t his usual boisterous one. It was soft, more personal, and made me shiver. I can’t live without you, that is what the primrose was said to mean, and I hoped that was why he was smiling.

Mathias led me to a place off the path, keeping me close to him. So much so that I nearly ran into him when he stopped, turned to me, and then pointed up. We stood under an arbutus tree, and carefully attached to the branch we stood under was mistletoe. I laughed, and so did he. We kissed, one that carried far more longing than any before. “Only thee do I love.” He whispered as he pulled away, before resting his forehead on mine as I caught my breath in the cold. It was going to be a long, desolate winter without him.

~Winter~

December

I am going stir-crazy. Father, Alfred and I have been stuck inside for nearly a week as snow continues to fall over London. Father kept mumbling about never seeing so much in his life over London, but that did little to ease my nerves. I was okay the first two or three days, but after six, my brother was beginning to cause great migraines to appear suddenly. I wanted to leave, but with the snow so deep Father would not allow me to leave.

What troubled me more was my letter had yet to be answered. I knew the snow would cause a delay, but I itched to hear from Mathias. He was calming to me in my hectic atmosphere; and being able to hold a letter would be a huge breath of relief. An escape from my current cage of a home, and opening a window wasn’t enough. One good thing about the snow was it reminded me of him. Of the snow he spoke about that would be greeting him in his home. When I was alone I would stare out the window and think of all the times we shared, trying to keep him in my mind when I was forced to face my family.

He could not come home sooner. I miss him dearly

~Spring~

February

With the end of February insight, I couldn’t help but be happy. My letters to Mathias had been answered, and he was to return in late March. That gave me a little less than a month to live without him. Of course it only gave us a few months before I returned to France, but that was far from my mind. He was coming back, and I would get to see him again. That was all that mattered.

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March

I received permission to travel to the coast during the time Mathias would return. It was interesting to arrange my own travels and accommodations, since I would be going alone. I was glad to be traveling that way, so I wouldn’t need to entertain my brother when I wanted to see Mathias. It is hard to wait, it seems so close, yet the day cannot come fast enough.

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April

The boat was much larger than I expected, it being more of a ship than anything. I was anxious, shifting the small assortment of daffodils and jonquils from arm to arm. Love me, you are the only one. I had been reading plenty about flowers during my trapped winter, and was now putting myself to the test. As people began to depart from the ship, I looked for him, trying to find any sign of him. I stood there, for what seemed like forever, until the ship finished unloading its people. I hadn’t seen him. I panicked, thinking I got the wrong dock number, or even the wrong day. I checked my notes, only to find I had written down exactly where I was standing. My heart dropped. Had something happened between our letters? Did he find someone else in Denmark? My heart raced and my head swam, I felt faint.

I was on the verge of tears, until strong arms suddenly wrapped around me. I was pulled into a strong hug from behind, a moment of panic setting off a struggle. He laughed. I froze, twisting my head around to look at him. He was smiling. Mathias released me and I quickly spun to hug him, properly this time. I felt him chuckle as he lowered his arms around me to return my hug. Once we released each other, I gave him my small arrangement. That small meaningful smile returned, the one I had not seen since fall. We moved to my accommodations and spent the night together. I had food brought up to my room, since neither of us felt like dressing to go down into public.

That night is one I never forgot. Mathias was gentle, for which I am thankful. I had never slept with another, but it was all that I had thought and more. His voice was thick as he whispered sweet nothings, in his own language and the one we shared. I remember him complaining about my French the next morning. I teased that he would need to learn it, and he retaliated with my need to learn Danish. Those few days we spent by the ocean were wonderful, and I did not look forward to our return to London.

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April

Mathias was a dream. We spent every free moment together, and learned so much about each other we hadn’t the time to explore earlier. As spring began to warm and bring telling signs of summer, our time together became bitter sweet. I would leave for France soon, and Mathias would not be able to join me. He promised to write, to visit if he had the time to spare, but I was still unhappy. I would miss him. The time we spent apart over winter was terrible, spending a year was unthinkable. I left hints about trying to stay in London, but my Papa would not have it. It was unfair. I hated not being in control of my life. Having a lover older than I just made the lack of control harder to bear, harder to sit through the life lessons my father tried to preach to me.

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May

At least Mathias was able to travel with me to the ocean and see me off. We promised to write, and gave our final goodbyes. He kissed me, I kissed him back, and I wished it could last forever. As the ship left port, I waved to him, wishing he could be next to me. I stood on the deck until the docks were no longer in sight. I retired to my cabin early, not patient enough to deal with my brother. As I entered my cabin, I noticed a huge bouquet sitting on the center table, a card neatly placed with my name in his familiar handwriting. I hastened to it, quickly opening the letter to read his words.

It was only after reading the letter I took time to look at what he had sent to me. Azaleas, gardenia, myrtle, roses of every color and white violets dotted the stems, their meanings flashing in my mind. Secret love, take care of yourself for me, take a chance on happiness, and far too many from the roses than even I can remember. I was overcome with emotion, the smell of the flowers only reminding me more of him.

I re-read that letter many times that night and fell asleep while looking at the love he sent with me. His love in flowers.

~Matthew Williams

           


End file.
